Half
by Natsushi
Summary: Five days after the Battle of Hogwarts, George has made a decision. He doesn't know how to live without Fred, so he'll go to him, instead.


****A/N: Alrighty, so this is quick and crude. Feel free to point out mistakes and places where it doesn't make sense in the reviews. And of course, I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, Fred wouldn't've died.

* * *

**Half**

_7 May 1998_

_To my family, friends and everyone else…I'm sorry to hurt you like this. Really. But, I just can't live like this anymore. He was your son, your brother, your friend—but he is my other half. My __damn_ twin! (Sorry Mum). I'm so used to waking up in the same room. He finishes my thoughts. It's hard. You don't get it. It's like half of my brain, my body, is gone. It was hard figuring out how to hear again, when I lost an ear. I don't know if I can figure out how to live with only me.

_I want to be with him. I'm sorry._

_Love forever,_

_George Weasley_

_PS—Don't be too sad. We're always our most hilarious when we're together._

George looked at the other piece of paper on his desk. It was an unofficial copy of their Last Will. When they'd opened their shop the landlord asked them to write one up, in case the Death Eaters got to them in one of their raids. The twins had written it together, laughing at the thought of them being dead. The whole thing was written in plural, always 'we' or 'Fred and George'. Never for a second did they think they would die apart.

Glancing down, he smiled. Rom, the funniest Weasley after themselves, would inherit Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. But Harry would get the first box of Weasleys's Skiving Snack Boxes® since it was thanks to him that they were able to start their enterprise in the first place. They hoped he would appreciate the sentiment. Their Mum and Dad would receive all of their other assets. Bill that cauldron that he'd liked. Ginny all of their brooms and sweaters. And so on. He sighed. Only a little longer before he would be with Fred again. Looking outside their bedroom window, the sun was just starting to set. George wanted to wait just a bit. Their favorite time of the day was twilight. Just after the sun had completely set. According to their Dad, twilight was time they were born. Fred and George had happily called it the tricking hour.

Placing Fred's wand at his temple, George watched the sun sink lower…and lower…and lower…

* * *

"George! George! Oi, Georgie!"

George started, blinking in the sudden light. He was sitting on a stark white bench and surrounded by trees and a lake. It reminded him of the grounds Hogwarts, well, without the castle anyway, and next to him sat a white-robed figure. "Fred!"

"Yeah, mate, what'cha doin' here?"

"Looking for you!" George hugged his brother. He tried his best not to cry, but a few tears still managed to find their way out of his eyes.

Fred returned the hug, "But what about—It's not your turn yet, you Flobberworm!"

George shrugged, "Who decided _that_? Besides, I needed to see you."

"What's done is history, I guess," Fred sighed, "You should've stayed though. Who's gonna whack that Potter nutcase when he starts putting his grubby hands on our baby sister?"

"Ron."

"Eh, he'll be too busy with Hermione."

George laughed, "Charlie, then. Or Dad. 'S not like it matters. Of all the blokes in the world, Harry's first in line."

Fred grinned, "True. So how'd you, um, get here?"

"Figured I'd do something I normally wouldn't…" George winked.

"Killing Curse," they chorused and laughed, a sound the universe had missed for five whole days.

"Merlin, the Ministry's probably having a fit right now!"

"Yep, I thought it would be good to rattle 'em a little. Keep 'em on their toes."

"How's Percy taking it?" Fred asked, already grinning at the answer.

"Oh. He's _fired_!" George laughed, "Temporarily, anyway. The Ministry's doing some background interrogation check thingy. Shaklebolt says he's likely to be the first to get his job back. But he's still officially fired."

"That git. 'Spose he's in a state though. Having the word 'fired' on his resume! How long's it been since I croaked?"

"Five days."

"Five days? It took you _five_ bloody days to make a decision?"

"Wanted to be sure, mate. Death's a bit more permanent than Aging Charms and sprouting tails, y'know."

"True. No more of Mum's pies…There's a reason not to off yourself. Any news from the realm of the living?"

"Not really, Fred. Like I said, only five days. Oh, wait, found out Fleur's pregnant! Due in about 8 months. No one realized before, what with all the You-Know-Who and the Battle and that stress anyway."

"Aw, dammit! We're gonna miss our first neice! Or nephew! Yeah, I'd like a nephew…" Fred mused.

George rolled his eyes, "Right. Like we know anything about kids."

"Oh, we don't have to…"

"Right…we're the uncles who spoil kids rotten and lead them to the Path of Hilarity and Fun."

"Yeah, Fred. We're gonna miss a lot, though—kids, weddings, births, deaths. But, we've got each other, right?" he finished sadly.

It was Fred's turn to roll his eyes, "Git, we've always had each other. Ever since we were little cells, and I was one minute older than—"

"Hey! I'm older!"

"Well, _now_, I'm five whole days older than you so shut up…Ickle Georgiekins!"

George snorted, "Right. I think we were having a moment there. You ruined it."

"No problem, little brother."

The twins sat in silence. There was no real for words. For at the heart of the matter, it's the thoughts and the feelings that truly matter. Besides, they could almost read each other's minds.

"Soo…Ron's getting the shop?" Fred asked, resting his head on his twins'.

"Yep. I didn't change anything in our will."

"NO!" Fred yelped, "Now Charlie gets our books!"

"So?"

"That's where we hid the stash, remember? Right before we went to fight at Hogwarts!"

"Oops…"

"Dammit! Can't you go back for a second to move it? Ugh. I hate being dead sometimes!"

"'S okay," George soothed, "Doesn't matter if they find our stash. We're dead. We can hear about it, in oh, 50-some years when Dad finally kicks the bucket because of too many grandkids."

"Hah! Think of all those nieces and nephews we coulda roped in! A whole Weasley Army of Miscreants. Oh, and some Potters." The brothers laughed.

Fred turned serious, a rare occurrence, even in death. "Y'know, we made jokes and pulled pranks and got on through life. But…unlike Ginny and Remus and Mum, we never appreciated life until now."

"I guess you don't really know what you got…"

"…until it's gone…"

Another comfortable silence settled over the two figures on the bench. This one was a bit more thoughtful.

"Wonder what Lee'll think," Geroge wondered.

"Hey, George…"

"Mmm?"

"Promise me something?"

"Yeah?"

"When you go back, tell everyone thanks. And that I love them. Even Percy. And tell Angie, like a sister."

"What? Go back? Sister?"

"Oh, and tell Mungdungus that if he ever pulls a fast one on you, I'll haunt him."

"But—I—"

"Bye, Georgie! I'll see you one day. Make sure you bring me some nieces or nephews!"

"Fred!"

"I love you, too, George!"

"Fred!" George gasped. He was back in their room, still clutching his dead brother's wand. It was dark out, and Mum was calling everyone for pie. From Ron's room came a quite flustered voice of Hermine demanding her was banging on the bathroom door. Apparently, Fleur had gone in an hour ago to "Cut ze lov'ly hai'!"

Unconcious tears ran down George's face. He would live. For Fred. Tearing up the letter and the will, he tossed the pieces in the air. "_Incendio_." He headed towards the door, then did a double take—did they really hide the stash in the books?


End file.
